


Atheist

by Fish3901



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12094059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fish3901/pseuds/Fish3901
Summary: Bill Adama is an Atheist. Is he?





	1. Rationality

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [无神论者](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093336) by [Fish3901](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fish3901/pseuds/Fish3901). 



> This is the English version of my own work which is originally in Chinese. The original one is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093336  
> Since English is not my native language, there might be some flaws, though I would try my best. Thank you for reading this!

 

Bill Adama had never really believed in the existence of the gods, though he neither publicly claimed that he was an atheist. Nor did he walk out of any of those boring and artificial Caprica social events when some stupid but overly self-assured fund-raisers or politicians were spouting off their worship of the gods or their sudden inspiration by the gods. Nor did he present any annoyed or contemptuous expression more than a raised eyebrow when he came back from a mission only to find his wife - now his ex-wife - having stuffed their house with all those tiny statues, delicately decorated Bibles, artificially worn pages of Bible collectibles, and even an altar rug, influenced by some Caprica new fashion trends who knows where the frak came from.

He was not a social activist, nor was he a person who would like wasting time in arguing over something so spiritual that almost has nothing to do with the tactical level. He was a soldier, and a soldier would use his best logic and rationality to analyze any possible strategy and solution, even cold-heartedly but efficiently including religions as an approach. A soldier would pay little attention to distinguish whether the feeling in his mind was sad or pissed, when he was analyzing such an influential but not much self-consistent belief system.

"Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's; and unto God the things that are God's." - he was definitely a soldier, a guardian; his duty was to protect the twelve colonies of Kobol, not to educate every each individual.

 

So when he saw the ex-Secretary of Education, current president of the twelve colonies of Kobol, and leader of the remaining humankind, looking into people's teared eyes, touching the top of their heads, passing some invisible, untouchable, hard-to-believe-ever-existing energy or power to them, like a saintess, or a lady Pope, he should not have felt such a complicated but strong emotion in his heart.

He should have been paying attention, studying, and analyzing as usual, maybe as well half-heartedly being surprised by how easily people would be affected;

He should have been alerted, alerted by the potential influence on the fleet from such a wide-spread cult of an individual, who was not only the president of the civic fleet, but also almost a spiritual leader; he should have been alerted, by the potential threat to the fragile balance (or more like tension?) between the presidency and the military;

He should have been exasperated, because Laura Roslin's belief in the gods had no difference with his story about the Earth, which was no more than a lie, a tale, a pathetic expedient.

He should have been exhausted, because even if the law of "repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth" was true, it only worked on the audience. However, the tellers of the lies could never escape from the burden of the truth, the questioning voice echoing in the ears, the weight of the guilt, and all the ghosts which haunted them in the middle of the nights;

He should have been struggling to hold back his disdain, because he knew too clearly that Laura Roslin was no more than him, just another human; they were not the saint or the saintess, nor the Father or the Pope, nor the leader of humans, nor the pillar of the mankind. They both knew too clearly. If Cylons' attack had never happened, they were no more than a retired and stubborn old veteran, who was even not able to readjust to the life on the planetside, and a former cabinet member, who was going to lose her dignity and health piece by piece in her dying bed;

But all he felt was bitterness.

Two realists - though Laura Roslin and he could never reach agreements on almost every issue, he would admit that nothing said by her was anything close to unrealistic or stupid. A realist is never a natural ally for another realist, especially when the other name of "realism" is choices between same critical options, giving up something important for another something important, and killing an innocent kid for five frakking damned kids. Two outcasts, who almost had been abandoned by colonial politics - he had officially been, actually. Two loners, who almost had been spending the rest of their life in the huge void forced upon them either by some Machiavellian or by cancer. These very two creatures, had become the pillar of the mankind, the preacher of some faked belief, and the tellers of those beautiful but never rational lies.

The only two unbelievers, burdened by the truth, tortured by the choices in the past and in the future, left in restlessness and powerlessness in the middle of the nights, in the most deafening moments of the silence.

 

He should have felt so many rational things, but he only felt the bitterness of her tears lingering at the tip of his tongue and the bottom of his heart.


	2. Skepticism

 

When he threw Laura Roslin into the brig, his anger was not only because of her betrayal of their promise and his trust, but also rooted in his fear of the possibility of losing Starbuck. For him, Starbuck was almost his daughter. Laura Roslin - how dared her? How dared her risk Starbuck's life, just for some so-called Arrow of Apollo, for some plausible prophesy, for her own belief?

When he realized the fact that Laura Roslin took the prophesy seriously, believing that she, herself, was  _that_ dying leader who would lead the remaining mankind to the promised land, his disappointment was not only out of the fact that she was so easily surrendering, letting chamalla to control her mind, but also rooted in his resistance to accept her destiny of dying from cancer. Dying leader? That prophecy was no more than some vague stories told by the _so-called_ gods, no more than some tricks her mind was playing on herself under the influence of chamalla, no more than some delusions growing from her beaten-up, gloomy mind, no more than a lame tale told by the exhausted Madame President to balm her people. Their people. Laura Roslin - she won’t die. She can't die.

When he could not fight back his smile at her, to offer her his forgiveness (even though she just straightened her spine, smiled back at him, but firmly refused his forgiveness; what a woman, so stubborn and proud that she always looked like just being stopped in the hallway of the President Office in Caprica, masking her annoyance of some unwelcome greetings with a perfect "presidential" smile, even though they were actually in the middle of the wet and cold forests on Kobol, tired and shattering. He was almost amused when he relished this thought and this image in his mind.), his concession was not because he was suddenly whispered to by the gods, nor because the anxiety and exhaustion piling up day by day during this hopeless mission eventually wore out the last bit of his strong will from his as well stubborn heart. These were not the  _reason_ behind his smile.

It was only because he believed her.


	3. Profanation

 

Though Bill Adama had never been anything close to the typical image of some rude and rough soldier or officer in some old-school detective or mystery novels, who stuffed more cursing words than what they really wanted to say in any sentence, he would neither be like some over-polished p-(o)-rick-ticians who would peek around after saying "frak", nor behave like a num and cast a disapproving glare to someone who just said "frak".  


 

However, when he saw the pale sunshine in New Caprica innocently and enthusiastically leaping on Laura's hair, in such a surprising manner of both elegance and adore, there were gratitude and admiration to the gods, for the breathtaking beauty in front of him. 

They were obviously and definitely not the praises to the gods from their sincere believer;

However, when he froze beside Laura's dying bed, in Cottle's sickbay, which was not as much organized as the hospitals during those "good days" of humanity, but as much cursed and damned as every hospital, any hospital, with the ominous smell of medicines and disinfectants, watching Laura's shallow breathes and beaten-up shape, holding Laura's fragile but as beautiful as forever fingers (surprisingly, even Laura was in a coma, he could still feel the steel-like will power in those fingers), he didn't realize that his tears slipped across his face, which had been stained by blood, sweat, and dust from brutal battles, but seldom dampened by tears. There were the desperate questioning and demanding to the gods, coming out of his torn apart heart soundlessly. 

They were obviously and definitely not begging prays to the gods from their humble believer;  


So when nothing filled his ears but Laura's low but dangerously sexy hums, when nothing intoxicated his nose but the smell of his shampoo mingling with a unique sweetness belonging only to Laura, when his tongue stroke the pulse points where responded him with passionate pulses under Laura’s pale like ivory but tender like silk skin, when his fingertips found the shallow dents along Laura's so graceful but unbelievably strong spine, when his palms winded over Laura's amazing legs, which had always made him avert his eyes but could never really hide the hunger when he stole a glance at, when he buried himself in the almost delirious heat, given and blessed by Laura, the Madame President; his company, his opponent; his inspiration, his pain in the neck; his comfort, his torture - his love, his soul shattered when exposed to this pure heat. He was desperately trying to preserve this moment, this moment which overloaded every his sensation, blurred every his consciousness, freed every fiber of his existence but meanwhile starved them in the infinite hunger, this moment when Laura and he jointed both heart and flesh. There were silent whispers of the name of the gods and meaningless prays tumbling off his lips. 

It was obviously and definitely not an atheist betraying his faith.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually... get to a certain scene! ;P  
> You folks should watch (or re-watch - I guess I must have watched this clip for dozens of times and I am still laughing so hard that I almost knocked my cup over my keyboard) this clip when Eddie answered the question "when did they have it (sex)":  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24-3jARA0Eo  
> "In my mind, haha.... right now."  
> Eddie is priceless *sobbing*


	4. Conversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window." -- Pablo Neruda

 

He started to believe there was a world beyond death. No, that world would never be deserted, never be cold, never be dark. There would be the most flourishing flowers, the most evergreen trees, the most unrestrained living beings; there would be the most splendid sunrise, the most fragile sunset and the most imperishable stars. There would be the eternity of life, the infinity of beauty. _So much life._ So much beauty. There would also be a lake, pure like crystal, deep like gem, and peaceful like dream. There would be a small cabin beside it.

He started to believe the existence of soul. The deceased never left us. They were forever wondering in the memories and love of the bereaved. He saw Laura's smile in the morning sun; he heard Laura’s laughter in the evening breeze; he found Laura’s loving and understanding gaze among the midnight stars. He felt Laura’s feather-like touches in the limbo between his dream and the reality, caressing his arms, his chest, his face, his lips, and his eyes. There was a trace of a slightly different feeling in her gentle and warm touching. That was his wedding ring, the gold band he put on her finger. The feeling of this tiny metal, coolish and warm at the same time, eased his unsettled soul.

He started to accept everything while abandoning everything; he recalled everything while forgetting everything. He had never felt so laid-back, meanwhile so anxious in waiting for the coming of the end; he had never felt so satisfied, meanwhile so determined in knowing what he was craving at the end of this road. _Laura_. His love, his goddess, his faith.

"I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window." -- Pablo Neruda

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-T writing the last line made me ache, translating it just repeated the pain.  
> One of my favorite lines from Neruda.  
> For Adama and Roslin, they were both people with strong beliefs and will power, so it is so touching that they reserved a special space for each other in their hearts.  
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
